Bedded by a Playboy

by Heidi Rice

  ‘Hey, I thought that was one of my best.’

  ‘It meant something, Linc.’

  Linc nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  Monroe swallowed, forced himself to continue. ‘When you gave me that gift by the pool, it brought it all back. How it was when you were there, what it was like afterwards, when you weren’t.’

  Linc sighed. ‘Hell, I didn’t mean to bring all that back, Roe. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be an ass.’ Monroe’s words were sharp, angry. ‘It’s always there. So what? It doesn’t mean a damn thing any more. You took me by surprise, that’s all. The duffel bag’s great, by the way. Just what I needed.’ Seeing the pleasure in his brother’s face, Monroe realised he should have said something much sooner. ‘Thanks. It’s the best birthday present I’ve ever had.’

  Linc put his hand on Monroe’s shoulder, squeezed and then let go. ‘Not better than the Silver Surfer card, surely?’ His voice was thick with emotion.

  Monroe grinned. ‘You got me there—maybe not quite that good. But pretty damn close.’

  Ali’s words of advice were still ringing in Jessie’s ears when she tiptoed through the garden that evening. It was nearly midnight. The grass was cool under her bare feet as she skirted the Cape Myrtle trees, their branches bending under the weight of their summer blooms. She’d waited until the house was quiet before coming out. She could see the lights from Monroe’s apartment blazing as always in the darkness, beckoning her back to him. The smell of lavender scented the sea air, making her smile with the romance of the moment.

  She would tell him tonight. Ali was right. Monroe should know how she felt. Her love wasn’t some burden that he would have to bear, after all. It was a joy, a gift. He could take it or refuse it or put it to one side and think about it. But whatever happened, she wanted him to know about it.

  She remembered the difficulty he had had in accepting Linc’s gift. The symbolism seemed so clear to her now. That was why she’d been afraid to tell him. Because she knew he wouldn’t know how to respond, what to say. It seemed cowardly to her now. She felt so happy, so confident. He was the right man for her. He might be unsure of himself but he didn’t have to be unsure of her.

  She glanced up at his apartment window and saw his tall, lean figure standing next to the glass. He was watching her from the window. Her heart leapt into her throat. Her lover was waiting for her. She gave a quick, delighted wave, picked up the hem of her skirt and ran round the side of the building to join him.

  As Monroe watched Jessie disappear from view, the weight of the guilt he’d been carrying around all day got heavier still. She had looked eager and so beautiful, the reddening twilight shining off that mass of fiery hair.

  Bewitched, that was what he was. She’d cast some sorceress’s spell over him. He was so desperate to hold her again, his hands fisted at his sides. It was getting harder and harder for him to contemplate letting her go.

  When he’d bumped into her that afternoon and she had whispered that she was coming over tonight, he should have told her no, made some excuse. But he hadn’t been able to. Not while he could smell that fresh scent of hers; not while she’d been looking at him with that combination of desire and trust that drove him insane.

  So he’d told her to come, that he would be waiting. But as he heard her feet, light on the steps up to the apartment, as he turned and watched her step into the room, he knew that tonight he would have to start the process of drawing away from her. He would have to start putting the brakes on. He would have to let her see that there was no future for them.

  ‘Monroe, don’t look so forbidding. I’m positive nobody heard me.’ Jessie ran across the room and clung onto his strong frame.

  He hesitated for a moment, then his arms came round her, and he hugged her to him. She could feel the rough stubble against her forehead where he’d forgotten to shave again that morning. She could smell the wonderful musky scent of him that made her knees tremble.

  ‘I missed you,’ he said.

  Jessie’s heart stuttered at his words. Could he possibly have said anything more wonderful? ‘Me, too.’

  He pulled her dress off her shoulders, pushed her bra straps down.

  ‘I can’t wait. Is that okay?’ That he should ask, the need and arousal thick in his voice, made her heartbeat skip again.

  ‘That’s good, because neither can I.’ She laughed as he lifted her into his arms.

  He carried her into the bedroom and in seconds they were both naked. There was little foreplay tonight, for none was needed. She was so giddy with the feel, the smell of him, that when he touched her core for the first time she was already slick and ready.

  His tongue thrust inside her mouth as his fingers probed gently, stretching her and then retreating, stroking the swollen nub and making her cry out.

  The heat was engulfing her, so suddenly, so shockingly. It was as if she couldn’t breathe. She clawed the firm skin of his back as he pulled the condom onto his rampant sex. She gasped as he thrust inside her, filling her unbearably.

  His hands tugged on her knees, forcing her legs wider still until he was buried deep. It felt like more, so much more this time.

  The intense pleasure built to fever pitch as he moved in and out, the rhythm matched by her small, helpless cries. She was reaching now, trying to cling to the top; each vicious thrust seemed to take him further inside her, force her further over that edge. She cried out as she exploded over the top, shaking, shuddering, and dissolving into that wonderful oblivion. He sped up, thrusting hard, filling her to bursting. He gripped her hips, his eyes hot on hers, and she felt herself build again. So fast, so hard. The raw shock and arousal seemed to clog her throat, burn her to her core.

  ‘Oh, no, not again,’ she cried, on a pant of need and disbelief. The pleasure was so intense it was almost pain. He exploded inside her and shouted out as she shot over that last impossible crest and fell with him.

  They lay panting together. Jessie watched the curtains billow beside the bed, the light breeze cooling her heated flesh. She was awed at how quickly the pleasure had overwhelmed her.

  She propped herself up on his chest, looked down into his face and brushed the strands of hair back from his forehead. The satisfaction welled up inside her as she felt the moisture on his brow.

  ‘I expect you already know this by now, Monroe. But I’m hopelessly in love with you.’

  He tensed, but his eyes opened and fixed on hers. She didn’t know what she’d expected to see, but the one thing she hadn’t expected was regret. It was only there for a moment before his usual grin took over, but it was there for long enough to make the chill go right through her.

  ‘You are, huh?’ His voice was low, seductive.

  ‘Yes, I am.’ Now was not the time to back down, she decided. Maybe she’d been wrong. He didn’t look regretful now. In fact, he looked cocky, his devilish grin dazzling her.

  ‘That’s sweet, Red.’ His hands stroked up her back. Then he pulled her down on top of him, tucked her head beneath his chin.

  She could hear the solid beat of his heart, feel the soft sprinkle of his chest hair beneath her cheek as the silence stretched out between them.

  She wanted to know if he loved her, too. The question almost spilled out, but she stopped herself, biting down hard on her lip. The sea-scented air breezed through the open French doors, making her shiver.

  ‘You cold?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I’m fine.’ The words came out sounding stiff.

  ‘Here.’ He leant down and pulled the sheet up to cover them both. After tucking it around her, he settled her back into his arms, her head pillowed on his shoulder. ‘That better?’

  ‘Yes, thanks.’

  Still she waited. Was he really going to say nothing more to her? She listened to the faint hum of the sea beyond the gardens. Could hear the murmur of his breathing. His arms were warm and strong around her. She could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. Lifting her
head, she looked up at the planes of his face in the shadows.

  He was asleep.

  Reaching, she caressed his cheek with one unsteady finger. She would not feel bad about this. She would not. Just because he hadn’t declared his undying love, it didn’t mean that he didn’t love her. Her teeth tugged on her lip; her body trembled. She would not let the tears fall. She was not going to be a ninny.

  She groped in the darkness for that feeling of euphoria, of contentment that had assailed her earlier in the afternoon when she had spoken to Ali. The glow of romance when she had looked up that night and seen him waiting for her. The exhilaration when they had been making love just a few minutes ago.

  But the joy, the pleasure, refused to come. In its place was a feeling of uncertainty, of confusion, of rejection and, worse, that miserable feeling of foolishness she’d suffered so many times before in her life when she’d charged head first into something, letting all her defences down, only to discover that it hadn’t been what she’d thought it had been after all.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ‘HELL!’ Monroe shouted, shattering the quiet in the garage apartment.

  The afternoon light was flooding through the French doors. The intoxicating scent of turpentine, sea salt and fresh grass swirled in the air.

  It should have been the perfect time to paint, but he’d been trying to get this picture of Jessie on canvas for three hours and it wouldn’t come. He’d never had this problem before.

  Cursing under his breath, he dumped the useless paintbrush back into the mug of turpentine and braced his arms against the table top. He could feel the burning tension in his neck and shoulders. He’d hardly slept at all last night.

  He picked up the washcloth, began to rub his hands, and then threw it down again, cursing more vehemently.

  It was no good. He couldn’t fool himself any longer. He should never have touched her. He could still see the confusion in her eyes when she’d told him she loved him the night before and he’d said nothing.

  She hadn’t asked him to say the words back to her, had let him hold her afterwards as if it were okay. But he knew he’d hurt her.

  He’d pretended to be asleep, unable to face her, unsure what to say. And in the darkness he’d felt her tremble beside him. It had been like having a knife thrust into his chest, knowing she was crying over him.

  She’d been so quiet this morning, seemed so fragile, he had forced himself not to touch her before she’d left.

  He should have been glad. Maybe she had begun to see that what they had didn’t stand a chance.

  But he couldn’t seem to get past what had happened last night. He wanted to make things right, even though he knew he couldn’t.

  And he missed her. Not being able to hold her this morning, not being able to bury himself inside her had put him on edge all day.

  He pulled off his T-shirt and dumped it in the laundry basket he kept under the painting table. Picking up the washcloth again, he cleaned his hands and tried to ignore the grim thought that had haunted him since yesterday. If he was honest, it had haunted him ever since he’d first taken Jessie to bed.

  What if he was falling in love with her, too?

  He hung the washcloth over the table’s edge, shook his head. What on earth was wrong with him? Of course, he wasn’t in love with her. Any more than she really was with him. She was sweet and innocent and they’d both had the best sex of their lives together. That would dazzle anyone. But she couldn’t love him; no one could.

  He picked up one of the oils he’d been using, screwed on the cap.

  He slammed it into the box.

  He couldn’t let her go, not yet. The muscles in his back went rigid at the thought of it, with panic and more than a little pain.

  There were still lots of things he needed to get done here, he tried to reason with himself. He couldn’t be around her every day, see her every day and not want her, not want to take her to bed.

  But there was one thing he could do, he thought grimly, and he needed to start now. He had to distance himself. So when he moved on, they would both be able to handle it.

  He finished putting away the paints.

  He needed to see her, to talk to her. He couldn’t wait until tonight to get this settled. She should be back from the shopping trip with Linc and Emmy she’d mentioned that morning. He could stroll on over to the house. If he could just get her on her own for a moment.

  He walked into the bathroom, stripped off his stained work jeans and stepped into the shower.

  As the cold water hit him full in the face, he gasped. But once the water had heated up and he began to soap his tired, aching body, the tension inside him finally began to ease.

  All he needed was to talk to her, maybe hold her a little, make love to her again. Everything could be as it was before. He couldn’t tell her he loved her. Serious wasn’t for them. But they could still enjoy each other for a little while longer.

  Ali leaned back on her heels and felt every single muscle and sinew in her lower back scream in protest. She dropped the small garden fork clenched in her fist and tried to massage the pain away.

  What had she been thinking trying to weed the flowerbeds while she was over eight months pregnant? She’d had some vague idea that it would help her forget the throbbing ache that had been pummeling her back all morning, but it hadn’t helped a bit.

  She was just trying to figure out how she was going to get up off her knees without a tow truck when Monroe strolled into view round the side of the house.

  ‘Thank you, God,’ she gasped.

  Monroe spotted his sister-in-law immediately, her dress speckled with mud and her face contorted in pain. His heart skidded to a halt and then started beating in double time as he raced over and knelt beside her.

  ‘Ali, what are you doing?’

  ‘Digging my way to China. What does it look like?’

  Okay, so she wasn’t in the mood for kidding about. He took her arm and saw her wince as he eased her to her feet. Now he wasn’t either.

  ‘What was Linc thinking?’ he ground out. ‘Letting you loose on the garden when you’re about to have his baby?’

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ Ali huffed. ‘I put up with enough macho rubbish from him this morning before he left.’

  ‘I see,’ Monroe said carefully. ‘So I guess the trip to China wasn’t Linc’s idea?’

  Ali shot him a withering look, but her fingers tightened on his arm as she tried to straighten.

  ‘Can you walk?’ he asked.

  ‘Of course, I can walk. I’m not an invalid.’ The crankiness in her tone didn’t dim the pain and frustration he could see in her eyes. It was starting to scare him.

  ‘I don’t know what makes men think that women lose all their faculties the minute they become pregnant,’ she snapped.

  The statement would have had more heat if she hadn’t then groaned and clutched her back. ‘Ow-w-w!’

  ‘Forget this.’ Monroe bent down and picked her up.

  ‘Put me down. You’ll do your back in. I weigh a ton.’

  She certainly wasn’t light. But he had no intention of putting her down as he marched across the pool terrace and into the house.

  ‘Where’s your bedroom?’ he asked as he walked across the living room.

  ‘You are not carrying me up the stairs. I can…Ah-h-h!’

  He felt it then, the way her belly clutched hard and rigid against his forearm. She started to pant, tears sliding down her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth against the pain.

  ‘Damn it, you’re having a contraction!’ His arms shook. She was in agony. What should he do?

  The contraction seemed to last for an eternity before she opened her eyes and looked at him.

  ‘Don’t you dare drop me!’ she said weakly.

  ‘I won’t drop you.’ He’d cut his arm off first, he realised, before he’d cause this woman a moment of additional suffering.

  He started up the stairs, carrying her as
carefully as if she were made out of spun glass. But it made no difference. When they reached the landing another contraction seized her. She gripped his neck hard, the groan long and low, before she started to pant desperately again. He waited for it to pass before taking her into the first bedroom he came to. By his calculation, the pains were less than two minutes apart and lasting at least forty seconds. He had worked on a cattle ranch one murderous spring pulling calves so he knew it was not a good sign.

  Neat and tidy and with no personal possessions in it, the room they entered looked like a guest room. He laid her on the bed, but she grabbed his arm as he straightened.

  ‘Please, don’t go.’

  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’ It surprised him to realise he didn’t want to leave her. He gripped her hand as the next pain assailed her, rubbed her back until it passed.

  He stroked her hair back from her brow. ‘I’m going to go and get the phone to call Linc and the doctor. Okay?’

  She nodded, meekly. ‘There’s a hands-free phone in our bedroom next door.’

  He ran into the next room, grabbed the phone and ran straight back with it. He sat next to Ali on the bed and held onto her hand as he dialled Linc’s cell phone.

  ‘Linc, you need to get home. Your wife’s about to have your kid.’

  There was a crash on the other end of the line and then he heard Linc’s voice. ‘Is she okay? How is she?’

  He could hear the panic in his brother’s voice. Monroe fought to keep his own cool and even. ‘She’s doing fine.’ He gave Ali a quick wink. ‘She’s a pro at this. But she wants you and Jessie here now. I’m calling the doctor as soon as I hang up, so just concentrate on getting your butt back here.’

  Ali panted her way through another contraction as soon as he hung up.

  ‘They’re so strong, Monroe.’ She gasped. ‘I can’t believe how strong they are.’

  ‘I think we need to get the doc here,’ he said as he began dialling the obstetrician’s number that Ali reeled off, clearly knowing it by heart.